


It Started With Stealing (Sherlock X OC)

by Mickey_Fable



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BBC, Benedict Cumberbatch - Freeform, Crime, Detective, F/M, London, OC Story, Post-Episode: s01e03 The Great Game, Pre-Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Romance, Sherlock in Love, Thief, martin freeman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2020-02-10 13:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18661324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mickey_Fable/pseuds/Mickey_Fable
Summary: Elizabeth Parrish is a thief but not just any thief - She is Moriarty's personal thief.She made a deal with a devil and she enjoyed it: the thrill, the challenge, the money. Every job he gave her left her on a high that she couldn't get enough of. She's never been caught before either.But when a job goes wrong, Elizabeth is left with a choice: Help Sherlock & John hunt down Moriarty and potentially get a clean slate afterwards or be locked away in prison for the rest of her life for attempting to steal top-secret government files.Which will she choose?And will her choice help her win or lose?DISCLAIMER: I do not own BBC Sherlock or any characters/plotlines related to/used in the show.What I do own is Elizabeth Parrish, her story and her associates (and their stories etc.).Hope you enjoy! ^-^





	1. Elizabeth

A woman with shoulder-length, brown hair, who looked no more than around twenty-seven, stepped out of the cab that had pulled up in front of a stunning, high-rise apartment building. It was called _La Belle Vue_ (The Beautiful View). Thanking the driver with a twinkle in her blue eyes, she proceeded over to the entrance of the building.

She sauntered in through the door to the apartment block wearing her sable Reiss Roma belted leather coat, black handbag on her arm, and carrying her little suitcase in tow. A smile was on her face as she was living off the rest of the high that her last job had left her on. She saw the receptionist and smiled wider.

"Good morning, Mrs Kaye, how are you?"

What were the chances of getting another job like the one she had just completed? She didn't know but every opportunity offered to her never failed to leave her with an adrenaline rush.

"Fine, thank you, Miss. Parrish - have you been anywhere nice?"

"Just been on a short retreat in Ireland. You know me - I love an accent."  And the pay, she thought, definitely the pay.

"Oh, I love your bag - is that a Givenchy Antigona?"

"You know it."

"You know, if I had your job, I wouldn't be holed up here in this apartment block."

"Nonsense - it's a lovely apartment block! My job merely pays the rent and leaves a little extra money left over," She gave a wink as she continued to the lift.

"Oh, Miss. Parrish, what is it that you do again? I might consider changing jobs soon!"

She paused as the lift doors opened, turned to face the receptionist, then answered, "I thieve."

Mrs Kaye chuckled, "That is a good one!"

"It is isn't it?" She gave a knowing smirk as the lift doors closed.

When she reached her apartment and headed in, she saw a man in a suit lying on her sofa as though he were sun tanning on an exotic beach. She couldn't fight back the next smile that reached her lips.

"Hello, Lizzie." The man with the thick Irish accent sang with a grin.

"You know I dislike that nickname, Jim."

"You dislike it when others use it, not me." He answered, standing up off of the sofa, straightening out his suit and then proceeded to walk over to her with arms wide open as though he was introducing an act on stage, "As always you were fabulous - I liked the touch with leaving them in the bed together. Both of their wives have promptly filed for a divorce."

"They didn't have kids and weren't good anyway," She shrugged and then gave an amused smile, "Ruining their marriages was the least I could do along with taking most of their wealth."

Jim chuckled as she walked behind the kitchen counter that faced the living room, placing her bag on the counter as she did.

"Do you want a drink?"

"I'd love one while we talk over your next job."

"Jim, I just got back - "

"Dearest Elizabeth," He pouted, "Please, for me?"

Elizabeth stared him down for a few seconds, still not answering but the curious look in her eyes was enough.

"You'll like this one, you will." Jim almost purred as he stood across from her on the other side of the kitchen counter.

***  *  *  *  ***

"Let me get this straight - Tonight, you want me to steal top secret files from a government official and even _you_ don't know what the plans are for? All you know is that they would change the world if they got out?"

Jim nodded with a Cheshire cat grin.

Elizabeth scoffed, shaking her head and then proceeding to take a sip of her brandy, "Um, how about no? What if these plans kill people if they get out? I told you that I steal; I don't kill."

"I'd never use them, obviously. It's all about power play these days - sexy right? That and I want to do it because I can. I'm also rather bored." He drew out the last word with a wicked glint in his eye.

"You mean you want me to do it because you can't?"

"Oh, sassy," Jim tutted then paused, "I can and I would but I thought you might like to play and get paid."

"'Play and get paid'?" She scoffed, "You make me sound like that other woman you know. I'm not judging but I certainly don't have her level of confidence." Elizabeth took another sip of her drink, still not convinced.

"Come now, Lizzie. Think about all I've done for you." Jim widened his eyes in an effort to look like a puppy.

When she didn't respond, Jim then tried a different route.

"Do you not think you can do it? I know it's the biggest job I've offered you so far, so I do understand if you feel like you can't. It's a government official, they're potentially incredibly dangerous plans, it's a challenge."

Elizabeth placed her glass down on the coffee table and kept her mouth shut in a tight line. Her steely gaze met with Jim's amused one.

"I know you can't resist a challenge." He sang.

The silence between the both of them grew but so did the taunting smile on Jim's face.

Elizabeth finally sighed, "Fine."

"Perfect!"Jim exclaimed as he leapt up off of the sofa.

"Ah, ah, ah - I still have questions."

"Fire away."

"Who is this government official? What is the name of the file? And -  how much am I getting paid?"

"How about ten thousand pounds?"

"Ten thousand?" Elizabeth looked to Jim in disbelief.

"It's a very important job." Jim's wild smile returned.

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed, "I hope you don't plan to sell them off."

Jim crossed his heart, "Power play, remember - it's sexy."

Elizabeth gave a single, sceptical nod, "Go on."

"You're looking for a file called GW-3 and the government official you will be taking it from is Mycroft Holmes."

**____________________________**

**A/N: What were your favourite Moriarty moments from Series 1 and 2? 😄**

**Mine had to be the part at the pool where Jim** **was** **like 'Daddy's had enough now' 😂😄😁😀**

**Also, funny story:**  
 **So** **I** **wrote this chapter before the 2nd of March. On the Saturday,** **I** **went to an event** **called** **Flame which** **was** **a** **3-hour** **drive from where I live on a coach. The coach company** **was** **called 'Belle Vue' -** **crazy** **coincidence** **right** **!** 😮😂


	2. A Meeting With Mycroft

"I'm not going." Came the defiant voice of Sherlock who was sprawled across the little sofa in his pyjamas and gown that he rarely slept in.

"Sherlock, this is childish."

"We're busy."

"No, we are not - " John directed his answer to both Sherlock and the phone he was holding in his hand.

"Why would you admit that?"

"Yes, Mycroft, I'm trying - Sherlock?"

"If he wants to talk to me about a case, he can come here."

"Mycroft said that he needed to tell you at his place."

"'His 'place'? You make his mansion sound like a flat." He scoffed, curling up on the sofa and facing away from John.

"Sherlock - "

"No."

"Alright, I'll tell him - Mycroft says that it's a matter of national urgency."

"Tell him Sherlock says that 'it's a government problem then'."

"Alright, yes, yes, I'll tell him - Sher - "

"No."

"He's willing to pay us."

There was a moment of silence between the two men and then Sherlock sat up, crossed-legged on the sofa, facing John once again.

"How much?"

"The next six months worth of rent - I mean, that's pretty decent considering business has been slow."

The curly haired detective almost appeared to scowl at his friend but he wasn't scowling at John, more so the phone he held in his hand. Business was being unfortunately slow. Why did all the interesting criminals suddenly take a holiday? He let out an exasperated sigh.

"Fine." Came his defeated reply as he dramatically lay across the sofa again.

"Mycroft appreciates it and says he'll see us at seven p.m."

"Mycroft appreciates it." Sherlock mimicked, earning a certain look from John, "What?"

"Nevermind." John shook his head with a sigh, walking away.

"You're still wondering why we can't get along?"

"I said nevermind." He called from the kitchen, just wishing the two brothers would one day be more civil with each other.

*  *  *  *  *

It was a little before seven when the two men arrived. The dark blue sky wasn't totally vacant as the bright moon was present. John, who wore a turtleneck sweater, and Sherlock, who wore his black blazer and trousers, along with a white shirt, stood outside the door to Mycroft's mansion. John waited for Sherlock to knock but the detective just stood there staring at the door. With a sigh, John stepped forward to knock on the door when Sherlock grabbed his arm suddenly.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

John frowned as he moved his arm from Sherlock's grip, "What? Knock on the door?"

As Sherlock retracted his arm, he swayed on his feet, looking around innocently, "Shush, do you hear that?"

John paused for a moment but heard nothing, "What?"

"That."

"What's 'that'?" He paused, "Are you alright?" John questioned, bewildered with his friend's behaviour.

Sherlock looked to John with a clueless look, "Yeah, fine. Why?" He offered him a small, sane-seeming smile.

John tried to hold back a smile as he noticed a certain look on his friend's face, "Because you have that look."

"What look?"

"That look."

"John, you point out my many 'looks' a lot and yet always fail to remember that I cannot see my own face."

"The look of 'if we don't alert Mycroft, he will forget about us'."

Sherlock couldn't argue with that. In fact, he didn't even have time to as the door unexpectedly opened without their doing so to reveal Mycroft. He gave a forced smile to the two men.

"Good evening, John, Sherlock." He greeted them, opening the door wider for them to come in.

"Good evening, Mycroft." John greeted him politely as he walked past.

Sherlock walked past Mycroft without a word.

"I'm so glad you could come, brother mine." Mycroft took the initiative to speak first to his brother as he shut the door.

"Glad?" Sherlock scoffed, "I thought you were incapable of the emotion."

Mycroft rolled his eyes, "I don't have time for an argument. Go through to the living room."

John silently walked into the room as the brothers continued to mumble incoherently to each other. One day, John prayed quietly, one day they would get along. He took a seat in one of the chairs by the fire as the brothers walked into the room. The fire crackled, casting an orange glow across the entire room.

"Would you like a drink?"

"Please, Mycroft." John nodded with a curious look on his face.

"You're being oddly hospitable, Mycroft." Sherlock noted as he sat in the other chair facing the fire, "Must be really serious if you're being this nice."

"Indeed it is."

Mycroft set down a glass of water on the small oak table beside John's chair before he pulled up a chair from the dining table. It made a rough, uncomfortable sound as the legs of the chair were dragged across the polished floor. John shuffled a bit in his seat as the older brother took his seat.

"Well?" Sherlock prompted.

"A certain acquaintance of mine is requesting your help. He - "

"How about no?" Sherlock frowned.

Mycroft sighed, already understanding why, "Seamus Kelly is requesting your assistance."

"Isn't he that politician? The one who was accused for the murder of his wife?" John questioned.

"It is."

Sherlock stayed quiet for a moment, "His brother did it. Come on, Mycroft, surely you could have worked that out as well."

"Of course I know that his brother did it."

"Then why do you need our help?"

"His brother was murdered."

John's brow raised, "Well, that's a twist."

Sherlock rested his hands under his chin in the trademark steeple position that he always did, "And now people think he was responsible for both the murder of his wife and brother? And he wishes for me to prove him innocent of both murders?"

"Yes."

"Why couldn't you tell me this at my flat? This didn't seem like a matter of national urgency." Sherlock almost whined.

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Because we are trying to keep these extra details to ourselves and not the general public."

"We are the general public."

"Sherlock - "

"Oh, wait, you mean from Mrs Hudson? You asked us here because you didn't want Mrs Hudson to hear? I could have told her to go downstairs," Sherlock argued and then looked to John, "And you said I was the childish one?"

"Perhaps I should leave you and Mycroft to talk about this more." John forced a smile as he stood up from the chair.

"Hold on - "

"I think you need to find out more about the case, don't you?" John insisted.

"Yes, brother mine, I still haven't finished explaining."

"Well, why not?"

"Because you interrupted me." Mycroft stated blatantly, garnering Sherlock's silence once again.

"Right, well, I'll be outside the room." John nodded as he walked out, leaving the two brothers to discuss the case alone.

Quite frankly, John always felt somewhat annoyed when the two of them fought over silly little matters. Yes, it was Sherlock's fault a majority of the time but even so, family was family. John hated the fact that he had fought with his sister, Harry, and sometimes couldn't understand how Sherlock could continually do it without feeling bad. Perhaps he was a machine? He waited in the foyer of Mycroft's mansion, looking around in awe of how grand it was.

Then he heard a sullen thud from upstairs.

His brow hooded over his eyes which burned with curiosity. To John's knowledge, there was no one else in the mansion. Presumably, Mycroft had a housekeeper but he didn't think that they stayed. There was another thud and then a crack. John walked back over to the door to the living room and popped his head in to see Sherlock stood up, while Mycroft was still seated.

"No one else is here, right, Mycroft?" John asked.

"No, of course not."

"Why?" Sherlock looked intrigued by his question.

"Nothing, probably just the wind in that case." John shook his head, closing the door again.

He didn't wish to disrupt the two and so thought that a little check wouldn't go amiss. John quietly headed up the stairs, looking to his right first and then to his left to which he saw the open window at the end of the hall. Creeping along, he anxiously listened out for any more odd noises. Having made it to the window, he looked out into the grounds and still saw nothing alarming. Shrugging, John shut the window. The noises must have been a figment of his imagination he thought as he made his way back down the dark corridor.

That's when he heard some shuffling from the room to his right on the way back.

He hovered by the door, pressing his ear to the shiny wood just to make sure he had heard correctly.

"There it is." He heard a voice from inside mumble.

Without even thinking, John placed his hand on the handle calmly and slowly opened the door. A woman was stood with her back to the door on the far side of what John understood to be Mycroft's drawing room. She wore an entirely black catsuit, holding what appeared to be a small backpack of the same colour. Her gloved hands held a file; she looked as if she was about to put it in her backpack. John stood still for a moment, shocked at what he was seeing.

"Who are you?" He felt compelled to say.

This earned her attention, given the rapid turn of her head to see him stood in the way of the doorway. Elizabeth's mind raced; what was he doing in here? He was in the other room with Mycroft and his brother. It must have been when she opened the window, she thought, mentally slapping herself. She cursed under her breath, keeping her gaze on John as she slipped the file into her backpack.

"Who are you?" John asked again, now shutting the door behind him, "And what are you doing here?"

"Look, you can turn around and pretend you didn't see this." She muttered to him as she put her backpack on.

An increasing negative feeling grew in John's stomach as this woman gradually moved towards the other window in the room. John, already anticipating what she was going to do, hurriedly moved forwards. Elizabeth, in turn, sprinted to the window that was on the west side of the room. However, John was quicker and managed to snatch her arm. This earned an attempted slap from Elizabeth, who struggled to get out of his grip. John kept his hold on her and ended up dragging her back towards the door.

"What the hell are you doing?" She hissed at him, aiming another punch to his face of which he dodged.

"I - could ask you - the same thing." John replied, struggling to keep a hold on her, "Sherlock! SHER - AH!"


	3. Attempted Escape

"SHER - AH!"

At hearing the yell, the heads of both Mycroft and Sherlock whipped to the closed living room door, both their gazes were ones of confusion and yet presumption of the worst. Sherlock wasted no more time thinking and sprinted straight out of the door and up the stairs to see light spilling out of an open doorway. Mycroft followed swiftly after Sherlock as he entered his drawing-room to see John on the floor and woman crouched by him, hurriedly zipping up her backpack. Elizabeth's gaze moved quickly to the two brothers in the doorway.

"What did you do?" The fury was clear in his tone, as the detective stepped forward.

Elizabeth got up, stepping back as though she were prey being cornered, "He's fine, just asleep."

"Why are you here? No, what did you take?"  Sherlock asked as he scanned John's sleeping form and then the rest of the room before ending on Elizabeth, "Mycroft, what files are missing?"

"How do you know I took a file?"

"Government official, private room, filing cabinets, your clothing, your unexpected appearance, also your confirmation." He listed off arrogantly, "Mycroft, check your filing cabinet."

The brother hurried over to the filing cabinets at the back of the room as Elizabeth edged closer to the window, eyes fixed on the two of them, waiting for a signal for her to get a move on. She half expected them to be distracted by John's unconscious body but apparently that wasn't enough of a deterrent.

Mycroft shut the filing cabinet, his eyes gravely landing on Elizabeth, when he discovered what file was missing, "Sherlock - "

"How important is the file?"

There was a pause as Mycroft discreetly reached behind the cabinet, drawing out a dark, thin cylinder, no more than three inches long, "It breaches international security."

Elizabeth took several steps back, keeping the idea of her escape through the window in her mind. She needed to go but these were not her average victims. Who knew what they would do?

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Sherlock warned her, taking a step forward every time she took a step back.

"Or what?"

"Selling state secrets is treason. Selling international ones - even worse." Sherlock closed the wide gap between them by taking two steps forward, "Hand over the file you took and perhaps you won't get a life sentence."

Elizabeth smiled, "You won't get me."

"That's a pretty arrogant thing to say to someone whose solved every case they've been given."

"Consider this the first you won't solve then. I have protection." Her back hit the ledge of the open window.

Sherlock took his steps carefully, subtly getting closer to her. Elizabeth still noticed though. She wouldn't let them get her. Not them. Evading them was part of the challenge and she aimed to please Jim. What none of them expected was John's groan as he came back around which drew Sherlock's attention away from Elizabeth at just the right time.

She made her move to go out of the window until she felt another grip on her arm. Her sapphire eyes widened as she looked back to see Mycroft gripping her wrist and then proceeding to bring the thin, black cylinder onto her upper arm. She felt a sharp scratch as the small item made contact with her skin and she viciously drew her arm away, and shoved Mycroft back. He stumbled back into Sherlock who consequently prevented his brother from falling. Elizabeth's leg was already outside the window but as she turned, an overwhelming sense of dizziness washed over her. What the hell had Mycroft done to her? She gripped the window ledge as the world around her spun.

"Mycroft, what did you give her?"

"Just a little sedative. She'll be fine."

Their voices echoed as she still made an attempt to get out of the window.

Mycroft stood away from Sherlock and straightened his suit, "Let her fall. It's the least she deserves for what she tried to take."

"Since when did you become so blood-thirsty?"

"If you understood what she just tried to steal - " Mycroft left the sentence unfinished but his tone was cold.

Elizabeth almost fell forwards out of the window if it hadn't been for Sherlock who pulled her back into the room. Her head lolled and she simply felt nauseous but she fought to stay awake.

"No - " She murmured.

"You're in no position to protest." Was the last thing she heard from Sherlock before she finally let her consciousness slip.

**__________________________**

The four of them were in a different room now: Mycroft's basement. Elizabeth was bound to a chair in the centre of the room and the three men were stood in a small circle. Mycroft was staring off into space whilst John tried to wrap his head around what Sherlock had previously told him.

"Sorry, just tell me what happened again?" John winced as his hand made contact with the burn on his neck.

"She tasered you and you hit your head on his desk as you fell, rendering you unconscious," Sherlock answered for what felt like the fiftieth time.

"And what happened to her?"

Mycroft replied, "She tried to leave and I gave her a sedative."

Sherlock then added, "Then we brought her down here and tied her to a chair, ready to interrogate her when she wakes up."

"What did she try to take?"

"There's no use asking Mycroft that. He just replies with 'it's confidential'."

There was a moan from behind the three of them as Elizabeth started to wake up. She blinked hard as her eyes adjusted to the light once again. When she saw the three of them, she instinctively tried to get up and get away but immediately found her hands and feet bound to a chair and her backpack gone. Well, hell, she thought, this was not how she expected things to go. She looked like a fool as well but last time she checked, they had no weapons. That little trick with the hidden sedative was a complete surprise to her. That said, he was a government official with a brother who was a detective and his brother's friend who was an army doctor. It could have been worse.

"Welcome back, Miss You-Won't-Get-Me," Sherlock said with a sarcastic smile, "We got you."

"For how long?" She retorted cockily.

Mycroft stepped behind her, picking up the file she tried to take off of a table which also held her backpack, "You do understand what this is don't you?"

She contemplated, "My employer doesn't really share those details. A job's a job."

"Who's your employer?" Sherlock questioned.

"Like I'm gonna tell you."

"What even is the file about?" John then asked again.

Mycroft remained silent yet even Sherlock gave him a look as if he was saying 'just put us out of our misery'.

"All my employer said about the file is that it could change the world forever if the information ever got out."

"I take it in a negative way." John asked to confirm.

"Of course in a negative way - when has the government ever cared for making a positive impact?"

"What's the file called?"

"Sherlock - " Mycroft tried to interrupt.

"GW-three." Elizabeth smirked which earned her a glare from Mycroft.

Mycroft took a frustrated step towards her, bending down so his face was level with hers, "I will have the government try you for treason for trying to sell state and international secrets. I have the power to lock you away in a dark, damp cell and to throw away the key. You have no idea what you are messing with." Came his fearsome hiss of a reply.

John was surprised with how Mycroft had reacted as was Sherlock. Whatever the file was about was important, all three of them could tell.

"There's a difference between being paid to get them and actually selling them." She paused, "Go on then."

Mycroft stood up straight again, "Go on what?"

"If you're going to lock me in a cell and throw away the key, might as well put us out of our misery. What's the file about?"

"We already know the name of the file," Sherlock added, "John and I are perfectly capable of keeping a secret, aren't we John?"

"Yes, yes, we are." John nodded in agreement.

Mycroft looked back to the two men and then scowled at Elizabeth, "Ever heard the expression: 'curiosity killed the cat'?"

"Yes and do you recall the rest of the saying: 'but satisfaction brought it back'?" She had a smug look about her, "You planted the little seed of curiosity in our souls. Now, you can satisfy us with an answer."

Sherlock couldn't help the little smirk that reached his lips with the way that Elizabeth acted so confidently towards Mycroft. He didn't appreciate what she did to John but he was enjoying the way she made her brother seeth the way Mycroft made Sherlock feel sometimes.

"I agree." Sherlock stated.

"Yeah, me too." Even John wanted to know.

"Global War Three."

"What?" Came the resounding, unanimous answer from all three of them.

"Global War Three. We thought that the acronym WW-Three was a bit obvious."

"You have a file that could start World War Three?" John looked horrified.

"Who has a file on that?" Came Elizabeth's answer accompanied with an incredulous look upon her face.

"Well, who would want a file like that?" Sherlock then directed his question to Elizabeth.

"Yes, indeed, who?" Mycroft interrogated her again.

Elizabeth looked to Sherlock, "You know who." If she didn't tell them and they guessed, well, Jim couldn't really give her any flack for it.

Silence fell across the room. Mycroft inhaled as they waited for Sherlock to click. Admittedly, Elizabeth was rethinking her whole job though. Why would Jim want the file that could lead to World War Three? Yes, Jim was insane but even he wouldn't want a world war. No, she thought, he wanted something else. He did mention power play. Now, he wasn't going to get what he wanted though.

"Moriarty?"

Elizabeth smiled, "I didn't break my promise."

"He's your employer? Well, of course, I doubt someone like you would want to start World War Three."

"Neither would he." She added.

"Why?" Sherlock stepped over to her.

Now she was risking her protection. If she let them know anymore, Jim might want her head on a platter - or worse, and yes, there was worse. She remained silent.

Mycroft considered something, "We can make you a better deal than Moriarty has."

"Like throwing me in a dark, damp cell? Because that is not a better deal."

"No."

There was a pause.

"Like what then?"

"Right now, you have a choice: keep the information you have on Moriarty in order to protect him and just be given a life sentence in prison or help my brother and his friend track down and eliminate Moriarty's network."

"Hold on, where exactly would she be staying?" John asked, "Because - no offence - but she did taser me. Who knows what else she could do?"

"With you and Sherlock, of course." Mycroft answered, "She would need to be monitored. Call it something along the lines of house arrest."

Sherlock remained silent, staring at the floor, the little cogs turning in his head. Elizabeth remained equally soundless as she tried to consider how she could go about this so Jim wouldn't kill her. Jim would find her. She could explain. But this would not look good until she explained. Turning on Jim would be as dangerous as bungee jumping into hell, only Jim would essentially cut the rope. That said, World War Three plans - what the hell was Jim thinking?

Sherlock looked to the young woman, tied to the chair. She made no noise. Sherlock observed and had she not been dressed up in all her burglar gear, he would have mistaken her for any other normal member of public with presumably a well-paying job. She liked to be active, she liked to be free. There was no chance she would stay loyal enough to Moriarty to be thrown into prison for life. No chance.

"What's your name?" Sherlock asked her.

She looked up, distracted from her thoughts, "Why would you want to know?"

"Because I know you're not going to take the option of spending your life in prison."

Another pause, her gaze stuck with Sherlock's. He was right, she thought to herself, but not completely. She would find a way out of this messy situation. She would have to.

"Cather - "

"Your _real_ name." Sherlock interrupted her with a serious look.

She sighed, "Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth..." He urged her to carry on.

"Elizabeth Parrish."

"Nice to meet you," Sherlock turned to his friend, "John, I understand that you don't feel safe knowing that a burglar will be staying with us but I can assure you that Elizabeth won't do anything compromising should she fear for her life."

"Is that a threat?"

Sherlock smiled, "Not from me but you know who from."

"There will also be some ground rules." Mycroft added, "And if you break any of them, I can assure you that a prison cell will be your next best friend."


	4. A Cab Ride Home

It was verging on 9pm.

Sherlock, Elizabeth and John sat silently in the back of the taxi. John tapped his fingers on the door, Sherlock stared out of the window and Elizabeth sat in the middle, fiddling with a ring on her index finger. Not even the taxi driver made an attempt to speak but then again, not all drivers were up for a conversation. Thank God, Sherlock thought, preferring the quiet. John and Elizabeth, however, wouldn't have minded a little conversation. She had spoken first.

"I could have sat by the door. I know you two are _close_."

Sherlock looked to her with a questionable look as his eyes narrowed. She met his gaze with an innocent smile.

John gave a sigh, rubbing his hands over his eyes. For the love of God, he thought, when would people stop assuming he was gay? There was nothing wrong with it but _he_ was not gay. At this point he just gave up correcting people though. They wouldn't stop until he had a wife.

"I think it's best you sat in the middle." Sherlock gave the logical answer.

"Why?"

"Because you probably would have tried to jump out."

Elizabeth exhaled defeatedly. There was no getting past him, was there?

"I'd also still like an apology." John felt the need to speak up.

"For?"

"For using a taser on me."

"Well, I didn't kill you." She shrugged coolly.

Sherlock interjected, "Have you killed before?"

"No."

"How do we know you're not lying?" John asked, concerned with everyone's well-being at 221B.

Elizabeth didn't answer and instead went back to fiddling with her simple, sentimental, silver ring. It would be highly unlikely that they would believe everything she said. They would have to work it out themselves, whether she was lying or telling the truth. Elizabeth refused to start an argument for no reason, especially if there was the chance of being locked in a cell for life. She shuffled under their watchful gazes but still didn't speak. Sherlock analysed her but nothing really alerted him of anything alarming.

"She's not lying." He answered for her, looking back out of the window, uninterested.

John was still unsure about the entire situation but he believed Sherlock. He was right with most things. There was still a part of him that was nervous though. There were a multitude of things that could go wrong. She hadn't killed yet but she still could.

The taxi pulled up just outside Mrs. Hudson's apartment building on Baker Street.

Sherlock opened his door to get out but turned back, "Let Elizabeth pay, I'm sure she has enough money."

"It doesn't grow on trees." Came her moody response as she handed over some money to the taxi driver, "Some of us need to work for it."

John was the only one to thank the driver as Elizabeth got out on Sherlock's side, onto the pavement. For a moment she considered running as the taxi sped off, leaving the three of them stood in front of the door. But where would she go?

"It's forecast to rain tonight, so I wouldn't recommend running unless you prefer damp clothing." Sherlock spoke up as if he had read her mind.

She didn't answer and instead scowled at him childishly as John unlocked the door. The army doctor walked in and Elizabeth made a motion with her hand for Sherlock to enter first.

"Neither one of us is that stupid," Came his blunt response, "After you."

Worth a try. Clenching her jaw, she made her way into the building. A woman hurried out of one of the doors from the passage with a sweet smile on her face.

"Oh, hello, Sherlock, John," Her eyes fell on Elizabeth, "And who's this?"

Sherlock replied, "Another lodger."

"Oh, but 221C isn't ready yet - "

"No need. She'll be staying with me in 221B. She's here under Mycroft's order."

As he had spoken, he had removed his coat, placing it on the coat rack. Mrs Hudson looked perplexed as to why Mycroft had sent her with the boys. In fact, she was just confused as to why Sherlock was involved at all and before she could ask, Sherlock spoke again.

"She's under house arrest but she doesn't have a home."

"Oh, I see."

"I do have an apartment actually." She muttered, "I doubt you'll let me back there though."

Sherlock didn't feel the need to explain everything in depth. He knew that she posed no harm to Mrs Hudson. John made his way upstairs to the apartment. Tea was on his mind after everything that had ensued that evening. Sherlock paused at the bottom of the stairs as Elizabeth hung back by the coat rack, looking like moody teenager. Mrs Hudson made her way over to her with a sympathetic look.

"What's your name, dear?" She spoke gently.

"Elizabeth." The corners of her mouth turned up at the edges only slightly.

"Well, Elizabeth, I'm Mrs. Hudson."

"Nice to meet you."

"I don't know what trouble you've gotten yourself into but I know that these two," She motioned to Sherlock and upstairs in general, "Can help you. They're often very good at doing that. If you ever need anything, just call. Us ladies have always got to stick together, you know." She gave a little chuckle and a smile before heading back into her apartment.

Elizabeth looked to Sherlock with a more relaxed look.

"She's lovely."

"I know." He stepped down from the step and motioned for her to go first.

"Neither one of us is that stupid," She mimicked, "After you."

"Nice try."

She was just checking. One never knew the silly, fortunate events that could happen unless one exhausted all of the opportunities. With a final sigh, she headed upstairs.

**__________________________**

"Right, if you don't mind, I'll be going to bed now." John said, standing up from his chair to stretch before heading out of the flat.

It was late, after all. It had been an hour and a half since they had come back but John was no machine like Sherlock. He operated on a decent amount of sleep.

"Goodnight." Sherlock called after his friend.

The detective was sat in his chair, hands under his chin in their classic steeple position as he looked at Elizabeth, who was sat on the couch, staring at the cup of tea in her hands, of which was still half-full and probably cold by then. She hadn't spoken much at all after they had came up to the flat. He couldn't blame her. It wasn't the outcome anyone had wanted or expected. But c'est la vie - in Sherlock's case anyway.

The fire gave the room a warm glow as the wood crackled calmly in fireplace. Elizabeth had considered other ways of escape but quickly abandoned them. She came to the realisation that Jim would probably come and get her. Probably. She just needed to sit tight. At least, that's what she hoped. But she had failed him. She had failed the one job she had and now he might see her as an undesirable, compromising contact. She prayed that he wouldn't see her as that. Sensing a gaze, her eyes dared a glance up to see Sherlock giving her his full attention.

"If you take a picture, it will last longer." Came her sullen remark.

"I don't want a picture."

Elizabeth's head raised up then, her frown holding with his look. She didn't know whether to be offended or not.

"I don't often sleep so you can stay in my room unless you would prefer the couch."

He stood up, turned towards the fire and grabbed the poker in order to stoke the source of light and heat. Elizabeth watched him for a moment.

"No more interrogation?"

"Not unless you _want_ me to interrogate you further."

"Not really."

"So then you have the choice of a bed or a couch."

"What do you mean by you don't sleep often?"

"Sleeping slows me down and there are far more exciting things to do than to sleep." Sherlock turned to face her again, "So which is it: couch or bed?"

"Well - "

"Bed it is; I need my workspace. Goodnight now."

"I don't have any of my - "

"We can pick them up tomorrow, I'm sure. You don't mind sleeping in your burglar attire tonight, do you? That said, if you didn't steal, you wouldn't even be here. Good _night_." Sherlock urged her to go.

He needed to get to work is all. There was still a case he needed to work on. In fact, there were several cases that he was certain he could finish tonight, so long as he had the peace and quiet to solve them. Elizabeth stood up and walked into the kitchen to put her cup in the sink. She wasn't one to be too petty as to leave it there.

She muttered under her breath, "Night."

Sherlock's room was pretty minimalist. There wasn't much in the way of anything. One could almost mistake it for a hotel room, had there been the little sachets of tea and coffee on the table opposite the bed. As Sherlock said, he didn't sleep often and so the room was hardly used. It was always left in a pristine condition unlike the kitchen or the living room.

She sat on the side of the bed, again, fiddling with the ring on her index finger. Elizabeth could never remember where she had got it from. All she knew was that she had always had it and seeing it comforted her. She didn't have her phone; Mycroft had confiscated it. They wouldn't find anything incriminating on there though. The chats she had with Jim were always in person. He found her. Perhaps he would do the same now. All she had was what she was wearing currently.

No use in thinking about it though. Elizabeth would just have to wait until it happened and she would have to remain awfully quiet until it did.


	5. A Change of Sides

The next morning, John had organised to do the shopping (which was rarely ever done but considering they had an extra person they desperately needed to stock up on some things) whilst Sherlock accompanied Elizabeth to her apartment building to collect some clothes. Embarrassingly, she had to walk around in her catsuit and boots which always gained odd looks from people. It was even worse considering it was a relatively posh building to be wearing that kind of attire in.

"If I'm on house arrest, how come I'm allowed out?" She inquired as they walked along the pavement.

"Because I'm still with you."

She gave a single nod of understanding as they continued.

Before even walking in, she spotted Mrs Kaye at the desk and abruptly stopped, moving away from the view of the glass door. Sherlock turned to her with a questioning look.

"I can't walk in there dressed like this."

"You know the receptionist well, don't you?"

Elizabeth nodded.

Sherlock shrugged, "This is really your own fault. Had you not chosen to go down the route..."

She just gave the detective an utterly 'done' look. It was only 10am and she had already had this lecture the night before and several other times this morning. What Sherlock said rang true but he wouldn't understand. People like him never understood why people like her turned to stealing.

"Alright. Fine. Let's go." She stopped him.

Elizabeth headed through the glass door. The sound of the opening entrance drew Mrs Kaye's attention away from her computer and she half-smiled when she saw Elizabeth but at the same time frowned. She smiled back to the receptionist as Sherlock appeared behind her.

"Good morning, Mrs Kaye."

"Elizabeth, love, I didn't even realise you left last night."

"Oh, I had to hurry out."

Mrs Kaye wasn't even supposed to know she had been gone. She was supposed to sneak back in, unknowingly to anyone else, had she not been caught by the Holmes Brothers and their friend.

"Walk of shame then?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened at the words that left the receptionist's mouth and a pinkish hue rose in her cheeks. Never, ever would she have expected her to say that. Even Sherlock shuffled a bit under the curious gaze of Mrs Kaye.

"Uh - n - no - "

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. You wouldn't believe how many others return at odd times with - different clothing." Shrugging, Mrs Kaye smiled.

"No - "

"Don't bother." Sherlock muttered, grabbing her arm to pull her to the elevator.

"Have fun, love!" Mrs Kaye called after them.

The detective and the thief stood in the elevator silently, as far away from each other as possible. There was an uncomfortable atmosphere between them given the comments of the receptionist. 

"You're not my type," Elizabeth blurted out, breaking the soundless ambience, "Just to highlight."

"You're not mine either." Came Sherlock's reply.

"You have a type?"

Sherlock looked to her with a somewhat emotionless look but the offence he felt was clear in his eyes, "What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged, "You just seem like the 'lone-wolf' type. Excepting John, of course."

"He's not - "

"So you are?"

"What? No - "

"So you're against it?"

"No - "

"But - "

"Elizabeth."

"Yes?"

"Stop."

"Touchy subject?"

"Stop it."

The lift doors opened and she raced out, Sherlock striding after her, straight to her apartment door. Her brow creased when she saw that the wood by her card scanner was splintered. Putting her hand against the door, it swung open gradually, revealing her completely trashed room. Shit, she thought, Jim must've flipped when he heard she was taken - someone else must have been watching her break into Mycroft's mansion; it was the only way he could have known.

"Do you normally live in such a tip?" Sherlock enquired, peering over her shoulder.

She shook her head, "I didn't do this. Jim must know."

Elizabeth wandered inside, looking at all the books that had been thrown off of her bookshelves, noticing how her glass coffee table had been smashed and seeing how one of the paintings she had had been taken off of the wall and ripped. Sherlock glanced around her once clean apartment and already guessed who had done this. There was a note on the kitchen counter that Elizabeth picked up to read.

"Brilliant." She sighed as her eyes scanned the words.

"What is it?"

"'It's disappointing that you failed me once. Don't fail me again. Say anything and you'll be worse than dead. - Jim.'" She flashed the note to him with a sarcastic smile, "Being with you is already causing me problems."

"You wouldn't have - "

"'These problems if I didn't go down this path' - I know, and you never fail to remind me but you don't understand." Elizabeth snapped, turning away from him and chucking the note back on the counter, "I'll get my things."

With that, she walked away to her bedroom. Sherlock watched her go, noticing the slight change in her gait to accompany her frustration. She got her suitcase out of the cupboard and placed it on the bed, not really caring how she threw her clothes into the case. The detective got the strange feeling that she was upset and wandered over to her bedroom. Zipping up the case, she put it on the floor, then retrieved her thankfully unbroken laptop from underneath the bed.

"Did he threaten you to work for him?"

"No."

"Did he threaten your family?" 

Elizabeth chuckled, "No."

Sherlock frowned, "Then what?"

The thief turned to him, "He _saved_ me from my family - well, my step-father."

The detective looked even more perplexed, "He saved you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Fiddling with her ring again, she looked down to the floor, seemingly ashamed of what he had saved her from. Sherlock could take a guess at this point but there was a twinge of him that regretted bringing it up.

"He - abused you? Your step-father?"

"Yeah..."

Silence fell across the room again. Elizabeth just sat down on her bed, her eyes never leaving the sight of the ring as it was the only thing that seemed to comfort her.

"I was young, only seven or eight at the time. The memory is a bit foggy but I remember him shouting - my step-dad - he was yelling at me. I can't remember why. But then Jim came along and he hit him over the head. Jim must have been around fifteen or sixteen. He started out as criminal young...as did I. He took me away to some other place - pulled a _Fagin_ and taught me how to pickpocket. I enjoyed it, it was challenging and fun. As he got older he started developing his network, a kind of any-crime-for-hire kind of thing. When I was sixteen, he asked me if I would like to stick with him permanently. Why would I say no? Jim had been like a big brother to me - he was family."

"What about your mother?"

She shrugged, "She left before that happened. I don't blame her."

Sherlock wandered over and took a seat beside Elizabeth, a decent gap between them but the heart in him feeling some compassion towards her now. She was just victim to an unfortunate circumstance.

"I don't agree with everything Jim's done over the years but he is family."

"Family that wants you dead." Sherlock stated bluntly.

Elizabeth looked to him with a frown, "Only if I speak to you."

"Well, if you don't speak to us, you go to prison for life."

She looked away, torn between the two sides. Elizabeth wondered if Jim would find some way to get her, so long as she didn't speak. What were the chances of that happening though? Every other person that had double-crossed Jim, close or not, often ended up dead within the next week. Maybe switching sides would be for the best? She didn't want to be locked up forever. Maybe she could go into some sort of witness protection? The money she got from thieving and stealing was nice but some of the things she had stolen over the years had led to others' demise.

"A couple of weeks ago, Jim blew up an apartment building opposite 221B, blew up an elderly woman in a block of flats, bringing more deaths, strapped bombs to an innocent woman, man and _child_ and strapped a bomb to John." There was a grave look in Sherlock's eyes, "You said you don't kill people but, the longer you work to keep his secrets, that's essentially what you're doing."

"No - "

"The longer you keep quiet, the more people you enable him to kill." He paused, "Help us find him."

"There will be a price on my head if he finds out that I've told you anything."

"We can protect you."

"And when I'm no longer useful?" Elizabeth looked to him with worry, "What then? Jokes on me, I get thrown into a cell anyway?"

"That wasn't the deal."

"How do I know that you're telling me the truth?"

"Elizabeth, I - " He sighed, " _Please._ " There was an authentic shine in his eyes.

Of course, Sherlock enjoyed 'the game' but he didn't enjoy watching and letting people die. He worked to prevent that and to provide closure (okay, yes, often mainly for his own entertainment as well but it's the minor thoughts that count too). Elizabeth looked away, closing her eyes, just picturing all the outcomes of this situation and most of them ended with her head on a stick.

"Promise me."

"Promise what?"

"That I won't go to prison and that - you won't let him kill me."

"I try not to let him kill _anyone_."

"Sherlock." She met his gaze with a serious one.

The detective held his stare with her for a moment then gave a nod, "I promise."

"Okay then," She nodded, pausing briefly, "I'll help you track Jim Moriarty down."


	6. Plotting

"She agreed to help them find you."

Jim stopped dead. He had been pacing, waiting for Sebastian Moran to tell him anything, more so the thing he wanted to hear most and that was not it. His right-hand man had been watching her for the purposes of helping him devise a plan to rescue 'the damsel in distress'. Only Elizabeth wasn't in distress anymore.

"What?" He ended on the 't' sharply in his low growl.

Seb shuffled slightly, "Admittedly, Mr Holmes was rather convincing to her. You know Elizabeth has - certain morals."

"BUT SHE OWES ME HER LIFE!" Jim roared.

"They made a deal with her."

"What was their deal?"

"If she helped them to track you down, then she wouldn't go to prison for life."

Jim paused, the cogs turning in his brain, and then he chuckled quietly. Sebastian was looking to him with a more concerned look now. Sure, Jim was his friend and all, but there were still certain quirks he found odd. All the sniper knew was that Jim was plotting something and he was most likely going to be a part of it, holding a gun to someone's head at some point.

"I should have trained her to become a hit-woman. Then we wouldn't have had this problem in the first place."

"That - that's not a solution."

"No. But I know the ladies who will be."

"So you're not going to kill her?"

"I'm sure it will crush a part of her. She's the best thief I know - I'm not gonna hand her over to the other side willingly. She's mine. It just so happens that it was a bad night for her."

Seb's brow creased as he listened.

"Sebastian, do me a favour and keep watch of _dearest_ _Lizzie_ for me. I've got to go and organise something."

_______________________

Elizabeth and Sherlock arrived back a short while after John did, to find him sitting in his chair, with his tea cup in hand. Elizabeth was wearing different clothes now - black jeans, a white blouse and a sable bomber jacket. She could risk dressing a little more casually considering she was staying at 221B now.

"I was beginning to think that something happened to Sherlock. All ready to call the police." John waved his phone in the air with his free hand.

"No need, John. Elizabeth's going to help us."

"Great." He replied sullenly.

Elizabeth walked over to John and stood there looking at him for a second.

John looked to her expectantly, "Yes?"

There was a pause.

"I'm sorry for tasering you the other night. Although, you really should know better than to take on a thief."

Sherlock had sat down in his chair after putting his coat on the coat stand and a rather teeny-tiny smile crossed his lips when he heard this.

"I mean, seriously, how long have you been working with a detective now?"

"Too long." John glanced over to Sherlock, whom nodded. With a sigh, he said, "All is forgiven. But if you turn on us, just remember that I know how to break an arm."

"Just remember, I know krav maga." She smiled to them innocently.

"I hope you're not threatening to turn on us." Sherlock warned her.

"No," She shook her head, "I'm threatening you not to turn on me."

With that she left to put her suitcase and laptop bag in Sherlock's room before returning to the lounge with her laptop in hand and took a seat on the sofa.

When she left Sherlock mouthed over to John: "She doesn't know krav maga."

"How do you know?" John mouthed back.

Sherlock rolled his eyes: "She would have used it on you back at Mycroft's instead of taser."

John nodded.

"What are you two whispering about me?"

Their heads jerked over to Elizabeth who wasn't actually looking down at her laptop.

"Why aren't you working?" Sherlock questioned, attempting to distract her.

"Because the laptop was loading."

"Anyways, it's probably best if we all get back to work now."

John smiled to the both of them who promptly nodded, even if Elizabeth's nod was suspicious.

Looking back down to her laptop screen, she considered what to do. Perhaps she could get in contact with some of her old acquaintances? They wouldn't appreciate her bringing police along but if she wanted to stop Jim from killing and stay out of prison herself, then she would be willing to do a lot - not everything - but a lot.

__________________________

Time passed and soon it became afternoon. The three of them had been busy doing things of their own. John had been to work (he was only on part-time at the medical practice) and had come back and was currently typing up one of the cases that he and Sherlock investigated on his blog. Sherlock had been in and out of the kitchen, continuing with experiments and checking up on Elizabeth every half hour or so to see if she had come up with something. Elizabeth's eyes were square, given how long she had spent on her laptop, trying to find any acquaintance that might know where Jim is and had had no luck - until now.

"I got something!"

Her exclamation drew the two men's attention away from their own tasks and they were soon stood in front of her, expectantly. Turning her laptop around so they could see, she looked up to them and explained.

"Two days from now, there's going to be a party of which I have just been invited to, albeit, I essentially bribed the guy who was hosting it to get a plus two."

"What's this party for?" John enquired.

"It's more of an event but you essentially just make a load of criminal friends to get tips from, share tips with, make ties with etcetera." She beamed.

"Hold on - we're not criminals and not to mention that because of both of our blogs, quite a few people know us." John said.

Sherlock added, "It wouldn't be the first time that a criminal has read up on me either."

"It's okay, the great thing about these kinds of events is that it's a masquerade. If you want information, the guy who has it is going to be there."

The two men nodded in understanding, the cogs turning in their heads. Sherlock didn't have a problem with blending in but John was admittedly a tiny bit nervous. It took one mistake to blow their cover and that would send everything up in smokes. Being in a room full of criminals, who may or may not have violent backgrounds, was never going to be a good thing.

"Sounds like we'll all be going to a party." Sherlock said.

John looked at his friend in disbelief, "You can't be serious."

But the detective nodded.

"What about the risk of - "

"It will be fine John. Plus, we'll have our own criminal to help."

"Yeah, John, just do what I say and you'll be fine." She smiled nonchalantly.

_________________________

Sebastian listened to the encounter that was being had between them all. He had hacked Elizabeth's laptop in the event that she turned against them, hence the reason why no damage had been done to the device. Stupid girl for not realising, he thought.

"Oh, Elizabeth..." He muttered, disappointed in her lack of loyalty.

Having heard about the party but having no location, he searched around himself after hearing that, for anyone who knew of the party. It didn't take him long given he had access to Jim's entire network. His loyalties lay with Jim and they would never change. That's how the criminal mastermind was able to trust him so much. These boys had been together through thick and thin as had Elizabeth only she didn't know of Sebastian. That's why it was his job to keep an eye on her.

Pushing himself away from the desk with his computer on it, his chair rolled him over to another desk, complete with the components for a gun. He knew who they were going to speak to and let's just say that they simply couldn't be allowed to breathe any longer.  Of course, if he waited until the party then a warning shot to Elizabeth and her detective 'friends' wouldn't go amiss either.

Yes, he thought, that was a better idea.

He would need a mask then.

And so, instead of constructing his weapon, he put the components into a case, ready for its victim in two days time.


	7. Trust Issues

Elizabeth had ordered masks for the three of them, and the day before the party, they all arrived. The joys of online shopping meant she could do everything from the apartment without breaching her house arrest, however, one of the items on her list required a short shopping trip. She wasn't too sure how the men would react to her little request but she would ask them all in due time.

"Right then boys, masks are here." Elizabeth smiled, flashing the set of masks to the army doctor and detective who were sat in their chairs, "Which mask do you want?"

John looked up to the three that she held, as did Sherlock. One of them was green with silver swirls, another was black and clashed with white and the last one was black and red. The two men really seemed to contemplate which one to go for before finally answering.

"I'll go for the red and black." John answered.

"Then I shall go for the black and white." Sherlock then nodded, "Are you going for the green?"

She smiled, "No, I've got a different mask."

Placing their two masks on the coffee table beside Sherlock's chair, she walked back to the kitchen to retrieve the final mask from the box that had been delivered. The mask itself was a deep red, accompanied by gold edges and patterns, along with a jewel in the centre of the forehead, and a stunning red flower at the side. When Elizabeth saw it online, she couldn't help but buy it. She had the money so it wasn't like that was a worry. She showed it off to the two with an adoring look towards the item.

"Stunning, isn't it?"

"Hold on, why do we get plain, cheap looking ones while you get a more expensive looking one?" John frowned thoughtfully.

"Because you two didn't participate in picking out what you wanted and they were pricy enough."

"I doubt the money matters much to you anyway." Sherlock mumbled.

"I still save. Plus, now that I'm not stealing anymore, I'm going to need to aren't I? Considering I'm not getting paid to do this either."

"No, instead you're getting a clean slate." He smiled.

"Well, thank you, but my money won't last forever." Elizabeth replied, walking back to Sherlock's room.

"She's rich though, isn't she?" John whispered to Sherlock.

The detective nodded. She was just being tight with her money but who could really blame her? She had no idea what the future held for her. If she wanted some stability, the least she could ensure for herself was her financial stability.

"I estimate around six figures."

Elizabeth wandered back in without the mask now and with a somewhat 'trying to be innocent' air about her. The detective took one look and he already knew what she was going to say, kind of like how a parent would know that their child was going to ask for something.

"What do you want?"

The thief smiled sweetly, "Well, you see, I don't have a dress - "

"Buy one online."

"It won't come in time."

"What about next day delivery?" John asked.

She glared at him, "You don't understand the struggle for women when shopping online, do you?"

The two men glanced to each other briefly as she continued.

"There is no universal size that all shops have, including online ones. I could buy ten size fourteen tops from different places and I gurantee you they would all be different sizes. Shopping online is even worse, because you don't get to try on the item before you buy it." She took a breath to calm herself from her mini rant, "I need to go out and buy my dress. I know where from, but last time I checked, I couldn't leave without one of you escorting me."

John smiled and chuckled a bit, "Sorry, I'm busy - Sherlock will have to take you."

John got up, still chuckling away to himself considering what his friend might consider the 'death sentence' once he understood why the situation would be bad for him. When he got to the kitchen, he peeked his head out to them again.

"And Sherlock,"

"Yes?"

"No guns."

"Why would I need a gun?"

John just chortled to himself, not answering his question. Elizabeth gave a bright look to Sherlock, happy she could go out to get her dress. She loved parties like these - dressing up was fun after all. Yes, she wouldn't have minded a fellow lady to accompany her but Mrs Hudson was out today, looking for a present for a friend.

"Perfect, come on, let's go." She fetched his coat and scarf off the coat stand and chucked it to him, "They don't stay open all day."

**___________________________**

They had spent hours at an independent dress shop that Elizabeth frequented for these kinds of events. She had probably spent half an hour just talking to the shop owner casually before they even tried on any dresses. Sherlock now understood why John said no gun. Being unable to do anything when waiting for Elizabeth was soul-sucking. He would do anything to just get out of here. Elizabeth knew the shop owner well enough to ask for her advice when picking a dress but that just meant that he had been sat in the waiting room for approximately:

"two hours, thrity-six minutes and ten seconds." He groaned like an impatient child as he dramatically slid off of the chair.

How many red dresses could they possibly have? He'd do anything to just be back at the apartment now because this was just plain tedious. Part of him blamed Mycroft: had he not have said that she would stay with John and himself, this wouldn't be happening.

His eyes darted to the clock again - only a minute had passed since he last looked.

Sherlock stood up now, pacing. He'd even prefer human contact rather than this mind-numbing shopping trip. He took his phone out and found John on his contacts.

~Help me - SH~

~Why? Where's Elizabeth? - JW~

~Lost in the abyss of a changing room :( - SH~

~Are you sure she didn't run away? - JW~

The detectives head whipped up to the changing rooms and he paced over rapidly. He walked down the short aisle of stalls, which were only hidden by a curtain. He pulled each of the curtains open in search of Elizabeth. Thankfully, no other customers had come in here since they had so he knew he would only find Elizabeth if he just checked all -

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" She shrieked, startling Sherlock, and pulled the curtain back over her half-bare body (she was only wearing her jeans) like lightning.

The shop owner, hurried out from another door, just beside the last changing room that she was in, with a bag in her hands. Sherlock backed away from a furious looking Elizabeth and a deeply confused looking shop owner.

"Well?" Elizabeth's stare practically burned holes into his soul as she awaited an explanation.

The detective ruffled the back of his curly hair slightly as he looked everywhere but Elizabeth.

"Well, I - uh - came to check on you - "

"So you call my name." She spoke slowly as if he were some idiot.

He wasn't. Well, he was with some things but not everything. Certainly, not everything.

"Next time use your head." She scalded, "Idiot - I'll be out in a moment, I was just getting changed."

Sherlock just nodded and retreated back to the waiting area. Taking out his phone, he texted John back.

~I wish she did - SH~

~Why? - JW~

~It would have been more interesting running after her than finding her - SH~

~But then it would have been disappointing too - JW~

~To some degree - SH~

It also would have been less shocking than the situation that had just happened. A red hue rose in his cheeks when he next saw Elizabeth, carrying a bag with presumably her dress in it, followed by the shop owner who went to the till. She paid and then turned to see Sherlock standing there, still not making eye contact with her.

"Let's go." She practically commanded.

Sherlock nodded, hurrying out of the shop, leaving Elizabeth to thank the owner and hailed a taxi. He opened the door for her to get in and then promptly followed. He could tell the she wasn't exactly happy with his behaviour given the fact that didn't even look at him for the entire journey. All she did was stare out of the window.

Sherlock got out as she paid the driver and waited there on the pavement for her. When she got out, she took one look at him and walked past him to the apartment door without a word. He understood that he was being given the silent treatment. When he unlocked the door and they headed upstairs, they found John sat in his chair, typing on his laptop. Elizabeth stormed off to Sherlock's room without even greeting the army doctor.

John could sense the tension and simply watched as Sherlock stared at her as she left, looking like a lost sheep.

"What did you do?" John asked, putting his laptop to the side.

"More like what did you do?"

"What did _I_ do?"

"You told me she ran away."

"I _asked_ if you were sure that she didn't run away."

Sherlock went to sit in his chair, opposite John. His fingers were pressed against his temple as he thought about what he could do to make the situation better. He wasn't good with these things but they would be working as a team tomorrow night and he couldn't risk the facade breaking at the party because of a stupid accident (that he still held John responsible for).

"You still didn't explain what happened." John stated with a curious twinkle in his eyes.

With a sigh, the detective answered, "I checked the stalls and may have almost walked in whilst she was half-dressed."

John formed an 'O' with his mouth as he understood Elizabeth's mood now. It was understandable.

"Wait, how's that my fault?"

"You placed the seed of worry in my mind and it grew - within a second."

John just closed his eyes, begging the Lord to give him strength.

"Did you apologise?"

Sherlock stared at John blankly as he processed this. Then his mouth formed a small 'o'. That's what he could do to make the situation a little better: apologise. John looked at his friend in awe of his stupidity. He knew he wasn't good with people but this was just simple logic, surely.

"Go and apologise to her."

"I will - after I make tea - "

"No, Sherlock. Apologise now." John insisted.

"Fine." Sherlock's lips formed a tight smile before he got up.

"And don't forget to knock on the door first." John added.

The detective glared at his friend before walking towards his room door which was currently closed. He raised his hand to knock but paused for a moment.

"I'm not hearing any knocking!" John called through the room.

Rolling his eyes, he knocked, rather gingerly, on the wooden door. There was no sound from inside. He knocked again.

"Elizabeth?"

"What?" Came a muffled response.

"Can I come in?"

"No."

John appeared behind him, "Say please."

Sherlock exhaled, a little annoyed,  "Can I come in, _please_?"

"Why?"

"Because I want to talk to you."

"About?"

"You know what about."

There was a pause.

"Fine." Came her final response.

John gave Sherlock a thumbs up before walking back to the kitchen but the detective just shook his head. As he walked in, he saw Elizabeth sat on his bed with a look at him as though she was wishing that he would be struck by lightning.

"Well?"

The detective shuffled on his feet for a moment, even looking down to the floor as he considered what to say.

"I'm here to - apologise." He dared to look up, almost fearing her response.

"For?"

Sherlock frowned, "You know what for - "

"Say it."

"I'm - sorry - for walking in on you while you were in the changing room."

Her gaze softened by a fraction. A sigh left her lips as it was her turn to look down.

"Thank you..." Elizabeth paused, "Question: Why?"

"I thought you ran away."

Now, Elizabeth scowled a bit. Surely, they would have given her the benefit of the doubt? Perhaps not. Her scowl broke down into more of an understanding look.

"It was John's fault really."

"John's fault?" She quirked an eyebrow.

"He sowed the seed of doubt in my mind. I had faith you wouldn't run."

Her eyes narrowed and she fought not to smile, "Sure, you did."

They were both quiet for a moment.

"Is all forgiven?" John poked his head in to the room.

Elizabeth's gave moved between John and Sherlock; she sighed.

"I understand. I wouldn't trust me yet either. All is forgiven. I said I would help and I will."

"Sorted." John beamed, admittedly feeling a little bad for joking around with Sherlock now considering the outcome of the situation.

"Would you like some tea? As around peace offering?" Sherlock questioned Elizabeth.

She smiled, "Please."


	8. Fickle

The next evening, the three of them got ready for the party. Mycroft met them at the flat after John had updated him on what was happening (Sherlock had said that he was 'too busy' to converse with Mycroft).

Elizabeth was getting ready in Sherlock's room and was taking an awfully long time in his mind. John was already kitted out with the gear that Mycroft had given them, such as a minute mic to listen in on the conversations that they would have, and had his mask in hand, ready for when he would need it at the party. Sherlock was pretty much ready bar the absence of his bow tie.

The detective wandered over to his room to check on Elizabeth. He knocked on the door gently.

"Yes?"

"Are you almost finished?"

"Almost, just putting on the last touches."

Sherlock nodded to himself as he started to tie his bow tie around his neck. He considered going back to John and Mycroft but then another question popped into his head. He asked, facing away from the door, but loud enough for her to hear.

"Do you dance?"

This wasn't Sherlock's normal job and whilst disguising was a part of it, he had never used it yet to enter a party such as the one they were going to attend. Admittedly, he was excited about the change. A new adventure - one that might even involve dancing. He didn't let on to many people but he did enjoy a dance. As a finishing touch, he ruffled his hair. Sherlock still hadn't seen Elizabeth's outfit for the party and it was safe to say he was curious considering that she had told him the evening before that 'he would find out soon' rather than just showing him the garment there and then. He thought that he had already waited around long enough at the dress shop to earn him a glimpse but apparently not.

The door opened behind him, gaining his attention as Elizabeth walked out, dressed in a simple red, mermaid dress, mask in hand. She was wearing a light layer of foundation and her light brown hair was in an elegant updo. For a moment he found that he was speechless and he had no clue why. She looked radiant.

"Sherlock?" Elizabeth waved her hands in front of him.

He blinked quickly, looking to Elizabeth questioningly.

"I said that I do - dance, I mean." She smiled, "You were in your own little world for a moment, weren't you?"

"Yes - yes, something like that." He nodded now looking to the floor briefly, "That's good - good that you dance."

Silence fell over their short conversation and both of them shuffled on their feet. He had looked at her as though he was actually paying attention to her, rather than daydreaming about other things. Admittedly, it was a bit unsettling but this was Sherlock. She was beginning to learn that he wasn't your average human being in terms of social cues.

John popped his head into the doorway, "Everything okay?"

"Yes, thank you, John." Sherlock nodded, "We were just about to come to the lounge." 

He gestured for Elizabeth to go first and she thanked him quietly, walking past Sherlock. The detective strode after her promptly arriving in the lounge alongside his friend and the thief. Mycroft caused Elizabeth a wary glance, as did she to him. He noticed this of course.

"I won't be sedating you again. I think we would all find it rather pointless at this time."

"Well, a girl can't be too careful." She muttered.

Mycroft didn't respond but instead placed a briefcase on the desk, opening it to reveal some gear for both Elizabeth and Sherlock. Her eyes widened in shock at the idea.

"Woah, hang on. I can't wear a mic." She shook her head, "Do you know what people would do to us if they found that I had lead cops there?"

"Well, it's either wear a mic or imprisonment for life." John shrugged.

"Yes, we have tried to get the most discreet equipment possible for the three of you. They won't know about it so long as you don't hint to anyone."

"And the bright side is that we're not official police so we wouldn't be lying if anyone happened to ask." Sherlock added.

"They wouldn't ask, they would just attack."

Elizabeth sighed, just accepting the fact that there was no way that she was going to the party without, at the very least, a mic.

*  *  *  *  *

"Would you like to dance?" Sherlock asked politely, offering his hand to her, as they entered the private club.

He wanted to waste no time in asking in the fear that they would run out of time to dance before they even began.

"Of course." She smiled, taking his hand, "Should give us a short time to scout out the room."

"What about me?"

"Find your own partner, John." Sherlock rolled his eyes as he already started to drag Elizabeth through the crowd.

Elizabeth threw a quick look back to John, "Head to the bar."

Having been abandoned, he shrugged a carefully made his way through the crowd. Sherlock was very eager to dance; he rarely got the chance to without being interrogated by someone as to why he must. Once they were on the dance floor, he gently took her one hand and laid his other on her waist in a gentlemanly way. She was already beginning to pay attention to the room while he was trying to make an effort to dance and do the same except it was a little difficult when the main thing he wanted to focus on for five minutes, at the very least, was the dancing.

"A bit eager to dance aren't you?" She smiled at him briefly before looking elsewhere in the room again, "I didn't take you for a dancer."

"I'm not," He lied, "Just eager to hide in plain sight." He spoke in a low tone.

Elizabeth gave a little nod as though she didn't quite believe him, but didn't question it further, "Keep your eyes open for Shaun."

"Remind me what he's wearing again." Came John's voice from the miniscule earpiece.

"Yellow suit. Bird mask. He's very - extravagant."

Sherlock was peering over the heads of people until he caught a glimpse of yellow. For a moment he considered not saying anything in the attempt to get a longer dance. But he couldn't do that, he still had a job to do.

"I've got him. He's heading to the bar." He Spun Elizabeth for her to see.

"Okay, I see him." She smiled sweetly at him, "Thanks for the dance," Before slinking her way through the crowd and leaving Sherlock on the edge of the dance floor alone.

She soon appeared by John who casually motioned his head to the side. A little further down the bar was the man in the bright yellow suit, accompanied with a bird mask that had small yellow feathers each side of his eyes. She subtly made her way over to him and approached him from behind. Tapping him on the shoulder, he turned almost whacking her the beak of his bird mask. Shaun tilted his head as he thought about who was behind the mask.

"Ellie?"

She rolled her eyes at the nickname but gave a single nod.

"Anywhere else we can go?"

Shaun looked around the crowd briefly, spotting the stairs on the far side of the room. He nodded in the direction of the staircase.

"I'll get my drink and then I'll be up - go to the second room on the left."

Elizabeth nodded, already beginning to weave her way through the crowd of criminals over to the other side of the club. Having heard what Shaun had said to her, both John and Sherlock headed up the stairs to the room before the both of them. As the men were already inside the room, Elizabeth waited outside for Shaun to appear, ready to allow him to walk in first in order to prevent him from running away if he tried. Shaun appeared shortly after.

"You should have gone in so long."

"I thought it more polite to wait," She opened the door, "After you."

"Thanks." He raised his glass of champagne to her as he entered the room and stopped dead when he saw the two men.

Elizabeth shut the door behind her and locked it. Precautions were to be taken considering that this was the only contact that she could trust to talk to. Shaun chuckled nervously, removing his mask and chucking it on the desk that was beside him. He then took a sip of his drink as he turned to Elizabeth.

"Is there a reason why you brought 'muscle' along, Elle?"

"First: My name's Elizabeth, not Ellie, not Elle, not Lizzie, not Liz or any other godforsaken nickname that you can derive from my bloody name."

Sherlock and John briefly gave each other a look - mental note taken: don't call Elizabeth anything other than Elizabeth. She took a breath as she removed her mask and then chuckled a bit, a smile creeping across her lips.

"Second: How are you? Also third: are you supposed to be a baby chicken?"

"One: you like the nicknames really, two: great, thank you, three: the design is based on a yellow cardinal - if you're good with your birds you would know."

Shaun chuckled as he opened his arms wide to embrace her to which she happily obliged. He then said with a fake joyful tone:

"You still didn't explain the 'muscle'."

"Yeah, that's the fourth thing." She pulled out of the embrace, "You didn't by any chance hear that I was 'caught' recently, did you?"

"You can't have been caught if you're here."

Shaun grinned but Elizabeth didn't reciprocate the action and instead had a rather awkward yet serious look on her face. She nodded to Sherlock and John.

Shaun turned to see the men taking off their masks, "Unless you - shit, Elizabeth - " He turned back to face her, "Are there more cops here?"

"We're not official cops and we're not here for you." Sherlock spoke up, gaining Shaun's attention again.

"We heard that you might have some information regarding Moriarty." John piped up.

He chuckled nervously, "You dobbed me in? Jim could have my head if I tell you anything."

"Shaun, what part of 'they're not here for you', didn't you understand?" Elizabeth put her hand on his shoulder, "Jim won't know so long as you don't let on - it's not like you meet with him face to face anyway."

This time Shaun took Elizabeth by her shoulders and shook her slightly. Both Sherlock and John moved to stop Shaun until he spoke:

"There are more of Jim's men here. If they know that you're here, playing detective with your new friends, they'll kill all of us. You might be the closest thing to Jim in terms of family but don't for one second think that that will protect you, Elizabeth."

"You think I don't know that? You think we all don't know that, Shaun? Jim's done things that I can't justify. I didn't want this but this needs to stop."

"I can't believe they turned you this easy!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're fickle, Elizabeth." Shaun let go of her and pinched the top of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment, "What did they offer you?"

"We gave her an ultimatum." Sherlock piped up, "Help us track down Moriarty or face life imprisonment."

"So you decided to turn on the only real family you've had, just to not go to prison?"

Elizabeth didn't talk but Shaun continued.

"If you went to prison, someone would be bound to help you get out. Why would you doubt that? Did you not trust the network or something? Did you not trust Jim?"

"Stop. Please, Shaun."

"Why? I want to know why you were compelled to help the other side? It can't have been just your morals. We all have morals but that alone wouldn't have been enough, not enough to turn your back on family. You wanted to save your own skin, didn't you? Didn't trust us enough to help so you thought you'd get out of this no matter how many others you would bring down. Once upon a time, I would have called you a good, dependable thief but you just hide behind whoever has the best offer."

Sherlock spoke up again at seeing Elizabeth's discomfort, "As we said before, we're not here for you. We just want information about where Moriarty might be and then we'll leave."

Shaun turned to face Sherlock, "You've never done anything for me, why do you think I might help you?"

"When we take down this network, we're the ones that decide whether we let you go scot-free or not."

"I'm not turning my back on the people who actually gave a damn about me, unlike the public services."

"You owe me, Shaun." Elizabeth had spoken up again, laying her hand on his arm, "Remember Paris? And Krakow? Moscow? I'm calling in every favour I have from you. Give us something, anything, and I won't come back to you for anything else. Please, Shaun."

Shaun grabbed her arm and held it for a moment, "You turned your back on the only people who cared for you. The favours are nonexistent now." He let go of her arm.

Elizabeth looked away, resenting herself for the choices she had made. When Sherlock had told her about the terrible things that Jim had done to him and others, she realised she couldn't ignore it anymore. All the time before that, she had been able to dismiss it but Sherlock put it into perspective for her and now this was making her seem fickle. Shaun was right, she had turned her back on family, but not only to save her own skin. Morals were a huge part of her decision. Wanting to protect the innocent public from the horrific things that Jim did was another. Still, the guilt got to her. She was fickle. She was a traitor. She had turned her back on the people she considered her family.

John had been listening very carefully to the conversation and had been considering what to say to turn the situation around.

He spoke up to Shaun, "You said that Elizabeth was family, yes?"

"Was."

"If your family wanted to try a different route, you'd want to support them, yes?"

"Yes, but not like this."

"Elizabeth's trying to make her life better. She's also trying to help you. In coming to you, she's giving you a way out as well. If you help us, you will be given the same offer that she has been given. You will also have a clean slate." John tried to empathise his point, "Because you are family, she wants to help you but only if you can help us."

Shaun didn't speak but he considered John's point and looked back to Elizabeth who looked at him with a hopeful yet saddened gaze. She walked over to him, standing in front of him and looking up at her friend with a wistful look.

"Please."

Shaun sighed, shaking his head, eyes closed as if the sight of her could change his mind in a heartbeat, "Christ..."

The three of them all waited with bated breath as Shaun thought about what to say. As this was happening though, Sherlock could have sworn that he saw something on the back of Elizabeth's dress move, as if the colour itself was alive and writhing at the discomfort of the situation. The detective blinked the ridiculous thought away; colours couldn't move. 

Shaun opened his eyes again, looking Elizabeth right in the eye, "You know he never stays in one place for long. You know his network is essentially worldwide, not just based in the UK. I don't know where he'll be but I do know what he may be doing. But you know he won't stop until you're dead, you're dead, and you're dead," For every repetition, his glance moved from Elizabeth to Sherlock, to John and then back to the thief, "If you know and accept that then all I can tell you is that the word is he is planning an assassination on a member of parliament. Someone asked him last - "

Sherlock was no longer paying attention to what Shaun had to say though as the thought of colour moving popped into his mind again when he saw the red appear to travel up her dress until it was on her bare upper back. A single red dot. A red dot trained on her back. It dawned on him then about what was about to happen.

Sherlock yelled, "Get down!"

The glass of the window shattered and the scene was a blur.  


	9. Splitting At The Seams

When Sherlock had realised that the red dot was the sight of what he presumed to be a sniper rifle (judging by the fact that the bullet had come through the window) he knew he had to do something. John was fine, he wasn't stood in front of the window, but Elizabeth appeared to be the target. He couldn't let their only willing source of information from Moriarty's network die. Or was it something else? No, he was protecting their source, he convinced himself, for the purposes of information only.

Elizabeth's breathing was shaky but she looked up at Sherlock with a grateful look. She wasn't expecting him to become her bodyguard at all but she was relieved that he had at that moment.

Although the same couldn't be said for Shaun. 

"Christ!" John hurried over to Shaun who was lying on the ground near them.

Sherlock looked to the side to see Shaun writhing in pain. Sherlock may have saved Elizabeth but in doing so, he had let Shaun take most of the bullet. Sherlock hissed as he moved his arm off of Elizabeth to discover that the bullet had just caught his arm, and went straight through, embedding itself in Shaun's chest instead.

"Oh my God, Shaun!" 

Elizabeth scrambled out from underneath Sherlock to be by the side of her friend. John was busy placing pressure on the wound but Elizabeth looked around frantically. She didn't know what to do to help.

"The bullet hasn't gone through, it's blocking most of the blood. Find something to block the wound with." John instructed.

"Liz - "

John shook his head at Shaun, "Don't talk."

Before she could leave her friend's side though, Shaun grabbed her arm, "You carry on,"

"Shaun, don't. You'll be alright."

 "You'll get - more, as well - as yourself, killed."

And then his grip on her arm became limp. The shine of life in his hazel eyes faded and he lay there unmoving. John checked his pulse but slowly drew his hands away from Shaun's neck and wound. Elizabeth looked at Shaun, his bright yellow suit now stained with dark crimson blood.

"Shaun?" She shook him slightly, "Shaun."

She choked back a sob, shaking her head in disbelief. Only moments ago Shaun was alive and talking and now he was - dead. The tears silently streamed down her cheeks as she looked up to John and then to Sherlock.

Silence fell across the three of them for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth." John spoke up solemnly.

There was a pause.

"No, no, you're not." She gulped.

John frowned. Sherlock still said nothing.

"As long as it's nobody you care about, right?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest but Elizabeth beat him to it.

"Taking down Jim's network is gonna cost lives but as long as they're not the lives you care about." She took a shaky breath as she looked back to Sherlock, "You only saved me because I - I had the more important information, right? I have the contacts. I have the 'expendables'. The people I know might not be on the right side of the law but they are still people with families and lives and worth more than stupid government systems could ever see. Shaun has a brother who is _never_ going to understand why his brother died because Shaun committed the crimes he did to keep his brother out of this life."

Neither of the two men spoke.

"And I'm expendable to both sides. Maybe not now for you, but I will be. "

Something in Sherlock broke, there and then, hearing Elizabeth talk like that. It hurt because it wasn't true - it might have been true at some point in the very beginning but not now - yet she believed that. He was kidding himself if he saved her for the purposes of only gaining more information but it took what she said to make him realise. Her words were a wake up call. He had promised not to let Moriarty hurt her yet in doing so, it cost him her trust. Why didn't he push them both to the ground?

John was ashamed when she had put it like that because a part of him heard the truth in it. It was unfair. They were trying to do the best for the public but in doing so, they were risking lives.

Taking down Moriarty and his network would be like war: both sides would win and lose.

*  *  *  *  *

Sebastian sighed as he watched the scene from his sight. He didn't need his mask much, only to watch where they went in the party and then the rest was history. Sherlock and John believed that Elizabeth was being targeted by Jim now. Perfect. In fact, too perfect - now she even believed that herself.

Sebastian shrugged off the matter. Jim would probably sort it with whatever else he was planning for her.

He arrived back at their 'safehouse' - for the time being, it was a little boat on the Thames - to see Jim sat back in the little sofa seat by the window.

"Well?"

"He's dead. What about you?"

"They agreed to help me. Lizzie will be back on our side in no time at all." Jim spoke in a nonchalant tone.

What was there to be worried about? Order would be restored in his network soon enough. It wasn't the first time that Jim needed Seb to exterminate all the snitches. It wasn't a 'snitches get stitches' case with him, more of a 'the mole ends up dead in his hole' situation.

All of this chaos to get his personal thief back. All he could think was that she better be thankful.

"She is losing trust in them."

"That's what I like to hear."

"But also in you. I hope whatever you're planning will earn her trust back."

"It will."

Sebastian didn't always agree with what Jim did but he didn't ever voice it. At this moment in time, he just wished that Jim would let go of the past, realise that Elizabeth wasn't worth the time or the money and just kill her. She didn't have the stomach to stay on their side.

Nevertheless, he would stay faithful to his friend. Perhaps soon Jim would see it.

*  *  *  *  *

The three of them were back at the flat.

John and Sherlock had debriefed Mycroft on what had happened.

Elizabeth didn't speak to anyone.

She just stood in the corner, silent, eyes searching the floor for some kind of sign that what she was doing was wrong. Or right. But either way, it didn't feel right. Her choices just cost her a dear friend. Nothing would seem right for a while.

When Mycroft left, Elizabeth made a move to head to Sherlock's room. Sherlock thought it best to talk though:

"Elizabeth, I think we should - "

"Fuck off." Came her curt interruption.

Sherlock snapped his mouth shut again.

John spoke softly to Sherlock, "Give her a bit of time. She has just lost a friend."

The detective gave a little nod as his friend left to go upstairs to his own flat, his apologetic gaze watching Elizabeth slam the bedroom door shut. Sherlock knew she had every right to be angry but he oddly didn't like seeing her like this. He knew he should feel indifferent but the truth was that he felt more than indifference. It was easy to apologise for walking in on her when she was getting changed but to apologise for something like this - it was difficult. Especially now that she seemed adamant that they were just using her until she was no longer useful.

*  *  *  *  *

Elizabeth was lying on Sherlock's bed, her eyes having a staring competition with the ceiling. She was lost for words, not that she would have many more for the detective and the doctor. What was she doing here? A shine came across her eyes and she blinked hard. Shaun's words kept playing themselves back over in her head.

She was a fickle-minded, good-for-nothing, troublesome, treacherous thief. Somebody would have saved her if she had chosen prison over helping them. If she continued, she would get more killed.

That said, could she live with herself if she knew she could help them take down Jim before he harmed more innocents and never helped?

It was unfair. That was the best way to describe the situation. She was a pawn in a game that she never really had the heart to play. The stealing, the acting, the seducing, the lying - it was all fun and games so long as the perspective never pushed through. As long as reality never hit her, she could handle it. But now? Now she could feel herself splitting at the seams, each part of her falling with a different person, like some sick version of tug of war.

And she was struggling to take it.


	10. Tea & Toast & Treating Wounds

There was a gentle knock at Sherlock's door the next morning with the detective stood outside as he waited for the thief to answer. A quiet 'yeah' emerged from behind the door and he opened it a small bit.

"What do you want, Sherlock?"

"Clothes. It's my room remember."

"Well, I'm not the one who chose to sleep in your room."

He had to admit that she had a point but he didn't reply with any smart arse comment - that's what John had instructed him not to do.

***Flashback***

_Sherlock_ _was up early that morning but he was actually being quiet about everything for once. John had appeared rather early as his shift at the GP Centre was for a little later that morning._ _John_ _was surprised to even find the detective in the room, sat quietly in his chair with his hands_ _steepled_ _under his chin but had his eyes open. He wasn't in his Mind Palace at that time although a part of John expected him to be._

_"What are - "_

_"Shush," Sherlock hissed, "She's still sleeping."_

_Frowning with disbelief and curiosity, John took his seat opposite the detective so he wouldn't have to speak as loud. Then, he just watched Sherlock for a moment._

_"Since when were you so considerate about not waking people up?"_

_"Since I killed her friend." He replied monotonously._

_John was taken aback by his statement. In some ways, yes, it was their fault - for getting Shaun involved - but actually killing him? John wouldn't go that far. Yes, it was a great tragedy but they hadn't pulled the trigger - Lord, they didn't even know that there was going to be a sniper on the roof opposite - so how Sherlock blamed himself really perplexed John. He was a man of logic but maybe Elizabeth's words had really got to him._

_"How do you know you killed him? You specifically?"_

_Sherlock sort of shrugged, then looked to John, "I could have pushed them both to the ground but I didn't."_

_"It was a stressful moment, Sherlock. If you saw the sight on Elizabeth's back, what presumption were you to make? You gave everyone a decent warning to get down - if the sight was trained on Shaun then I'm sure you would have pushed him to the ground instead. At that moment, you saw there was more danger to Elizabeth than anyone else. What you did was logical."_  

_"She still blames me though - "_

_"Sherlock, she was upset! Who else was there to blame - "_

_"Moriarty - "_

_"That was also in the room? That she could verbally accuse?"_

_It was human nature to blame someone, Sherlock thought, often the people in the room where the event took place. Even he knew that but her words really got to him. It didn't matter who got hurt so long as it wasn't anyone he cared about._

_"How do I - apologise?"_

_Even if John said he shouldn't think himself responsible for Shaun's death, he still wanted to make amends - otherwise, she'd never work with them properly again. That and he genuinely felt bad for what happened._

_"Just don't be a smart-arse about it."_

_With that, John got up from his chair and headed over to the coat-rack. It wouldn't fix it but perhaps it would begin building back that bridge._

_"And maybe bring her tea too."_

_Sherlock nodded and gave a small smile to the army doctor as he left._

***Flashback End***

So that's what he had done. He had waited until he heard her stirring and went to make her tea - and toast.

He took her last line as an invite to come in, that and the way she beckoned him impatiently to come into the room. Then she saw the tray he was holding and frowned as he put it next to her on the bedside table. Sherlock stood there, hands behind his back, as he looked at her somewhat unsure of what to say.

"What's this?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Breakfast." He replied rather obviously.

"No, I know that but what's - this?" She gestured around, "Didn't realise I was in a B'n'B and I thought you said you wanted clothes."

"I - uh - I also wanted to - apologise."

Now, it was Elizabeth's turn to share a look of uncertainty and woe. Silence fell across them both as he stood there, waiting for some tell that told him it was time to go. Part of her knew she was harsh on them last night - Sherlock had saved her after all - but this was becoming a frustrating back and forth. They make a mistake, she has a go at them, they apologise, repeat. She said 'they' - more so she meant 'him'. But this was a hard mistake to forgive. The first step was acknowledging it wasn't their fault but Jim's. It was difficult to do so though.

"Tea and toast won't bring Shaun back." Elizabeth replied sullenly.

"I know. I'm sorry."

She could tell he meant it sincerely. That and I wasn't like her to hold a grudge for so long.

"Thank you." She broke the silence between them.

Another part of her mind told her this happened anyway, that no one's life as a criminal guaranteed you would live, regardless of what crime you committed. She took the tea off the tray, taking a small sip. Sherlock nodded to her and turned to leave.

"What about your clothes?" She called after him.

The detective strolled back in again without looking at Elizabeth as he searched his drawers and wardrobe for that day's outfit. Her mouth curved up at the edges a small bit as he had pretended like he hadn't forgotten at all. Then he faltered slightly as he got his shirt off of the hangar and she frowned.

"How's your arm?"

"Fine." 

She could tell he said the line with gritted teeth.

"Didn't John look at it?"

"No."

"Why not?" Elizabeth was already getting out of the bed to see.

Sherlock turned away from the wardrobe, shutting it as he saw Elizabeth approaching him, "Because it's fine." He gave a pained look, "Eat your breakfast." He then instructed.

Quirking her eyebrows at the detective, she said, "One - I'm not a little girl you can just order around, two - you and I aren't stupid enough to not realise that it could get infected. The bullet went - straight through, yes?"

Of course yes, because the bullet ended up in Shaun.

Sherlock gave a small, reluctant nod, realising now that she wasn't going to let this go.

"Let me see."

"You're not a doctor." He raised an eyebrow.

"And you're in no position to protest, especially if the wound is infected. Wardrobe behind you, upset thief that knows martial arts in front of you. Where are you planning to escape to? Narnia?" She gave him a knowing look.

"You don't know martial arts." Sherlock looked at her in disbelief.

"I'd let you find out but I know you're injured."

Sherlock still made no move, "Go and enjoy your breakfast." He smiled politely, knowing last night John said to give her space.

But Elizabeth didn't want any, she just wanted something to take her mind off of it, off of what Shaun had said, "I'm not asking."

She could be bloody insistent when she wanted to be. With a sigh, Sherlock nodded and directed her to the first aid box in the kitchen. He wasn't getting out of this one, the whole world knew it. Removing his gown slowly, he went sit on the couch and she followed. Sherlock had done his own patch job last night, putting a dressing over the entrance and exit wound but hadn't cleaned it. After seeing the wound, Elizabeth went to fetch a bowl of water and cotton pads. The entire time, she remained quiet cleaning the wound, save for the quiet wincing of Sherlock when it stung. He kept looking at her every now and again, trying to study her, trying to deduce what she was thinking.

"What?" She questioned without looking away from the wound.

"Your tea and toast are getting cold." Well, he didn't lie about that.

"Enjoy tea and toast while the person who is responsible for me gets an infection and dies or treat said person's infection because I literally have nowhere else to go?" Her gaze met his for a brief moment, "I wonder which I would choose." She spoke sarcastically.

This earned a small smile from Sherlock.

"What are you really thinking?" She wasn't an idiot.

"About what you're thinking." He answered a little more honestly.

"Why?"

"Well, if I were you, I know I'd pick the former choice. Looks like you were lucky and you just left."

"Forgetting the 'nowhere to go' part. Nowhere safe anyway."

"You could just not work with us."

"I could - but then I'd be in prison."

"We really didn't give you much choice did - ah! Ow!"

Elizabeth had gently pressed his wound as she looked at him with a blank look, "You think?" She removed her finger.

Noted: a little bit touchy about what happened still. Sherlock looked to her with a pained frown.

"Did that hurt?"

"Yes."

"Good."

His brow knotted in the middle. Well, that was rude.

"What I'm thinking is that because I don't have any real choice, I might as well make the most of this one because if I don't, I won't have any choice anyway."

He nodded. Fair enough.

As she put the dressings back on the wound, she said, "What I'm also thinking is that you saved my life - thank you," She gave him a grateful look, "But I did lose a friend in the process of you doing so."

"I'm sorry."

"I know." She gulped, "But I also know that the risk of death comes with the job and if we hadn't seen Shaun last night, who's to say he wouldn't have been killed on the next job he went on."

Sherlock was silent.

"And I know that you only did what you thought was best. I know that I'm entitled to be upset but I know I was harsh last night." Elizabeth looked away as a tear rolled down her cheek when she finished putting on the dressing, "I'm sorry too," She choked.

"It's okay." Was all Sherlock said, an air of understanding around him.

And then he did something that neither of them expected him to do, he gently, slowly, wrapped his arm around her, despite the pain, in a friendly embrace, which she didn't refuse. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes as she cried quietly and Sherlock just held her, and reassured her it would be okay.


	11. From Murder Cases To More Thieves

"Sherlock? Elizabeth?" John called as he walked into the flat, curious as to their whereabouts.

"In here, John." Sherlock called from the kitchen.

When he walked in, John would have seen all of Sherlock's science equipment laid out on the kitchen table - as expected - and him operating on what appeared to be a person's heart. Mildly disturbed - as always - by what he was seeing, his eyes begged the question and then Sherlock answered as if he could sense it.

"Testing how long it takes a heart to stop after different amounts of a neuromuscular blocking agent."

John just gave a small nod, "And Elizabeth?"

Sherlock looked up from his small experiment, "In the fridge."

"What!?"

"Kidding." Sherlock said with a small smile.

This earned a small glare from his friend. John couldn't help it - Sherlock was always so serious when saying some things.

"She is in my room. Where she has always been."

"Well...is she okay? Are we all okay? Is everything good?" John prompted.

"As well as it can be, John. She is still grieving as anyone can imagine."

"And are you - okay?"

The detective gave a small nod before returning to his experiment. John just inhaled before heading over to the kitchen counter to make some tea. Elizabeth walked in at this point, which John was relieved to see (proof of life, you know), and sat down opposite Sherlock, grimacing when she realised he had a beating heart on the table.

"You really do have some weird pastime activities."

"It's interesting." Sherlock defended.

"It's weird." She countered.

"Interesting."

"Weird."

"I second that." John interjected with a small smile, "How are you, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth shrugged. Her eyes were noticeably a bit swollen and red from crying earlier. After her conversation with Sherlock and essential breakdown, she retired to his room and just slept mainly. Emerging a few times, she was offered tea from Sherlock or Sherlock would occasionally knock on his door to find out if she wanted anything. She had noticed that he just generally cared for her and maybe that was just so he could rebuild the bridge for more information about the network but either way, she appreciated it. He was giving her time to mourn. Time that was needed.

"Alright. What's not alright is a certain detective forgetting to tell you about the bullet wound on his upper arm." She tilted her head at Sherlock.

The detective merely went straight back to his experiment but it was right at the point that the heart stopped.

"Even the heart thought your wellbeing is more important," She gave a small smile, "But seriously, I suggest you take a look, John."

"Snitch." Sherlock muttered.

"Oh, please."

"Sherlock, let me see." John instructed his friend.

With a sigh, Sherlock removed his blazer and - very carefully, very slowly - rolled his shirt sleeve up so John could see the simple bandage that Elizabeth had fashioned for the injury. The doctor removed the bandage and gently prodded at the area around it. Sherlock notably gritted his teeth and inhaled sharply.

"It's infected." John frowned at his friend.

He knew this, of course. Giving John a pained smile, he simply said, "There were more important things going on."

"You can't solve cases if you're hospital-bound." John gave him a stern look, "You're lucky it only looks like a mild infection at the moment. I'll get ointment for you." He sighed and looked to Elizabeth, "Can you deal with him alone for another short while."

She shrugged, "He seems pretty content playing with his heart so I guess so."

"Right, well, I'll be back soon then."

"Bye, John."

"Goodbye." Sherlock grumbled under his breath like a child had been told that they couldn't play outside until they had finished their dinner.

Elizabeth tapped her fingers on the table, watching Sherlock work to remove the heart from the tubes that were ensuring the organ would beat. He was so precise. Then she grimaced at the sight and got up, ready to head back to bed.

"You didn't have to tell him." Sherlock called after her, in the hopes that she would stay and talk.

She called back, "It only would have gotten worse!"

But she didn't stay to chat. Then, Sherlock simply wondered why he had hoped that she would stay and talk when usually he was comfortable on his own. Perhaps he was growing fond of her perplexing presence.

* * * * *

"Oi! Come back here! Stop those women!" Yelled a jeweller as he chased after a trio of ladies who promptly sprinted away from his shop.

One of them collided with John as he walked out of the convenience store, dropping their bag of stolen goods as they did.

"I'm so sorry." He apologised, moving to pick up the bag.

"No worries, my fault, thank you for being such a gentleman." She smiled genuinely as she hurriedly took the bag from him again, "I'm in a bit of a hurry." She threw a look over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of the jeweller who was making his way towards her.

"Stop her! You there, stop her - she's a thief!"

Looking back to John she gave a charming smile, "Thief of his heart, haha - exes, am I right? Anyway, catch you later."

And with that she raced off, leaving a rather perplexed John behind.

The jeweller slowed down by John, panting, red in the face, not just from exhaustion, but from frustration too, "Why would you let her go like that? She stole from my store again!"

"I - I'm sorry - I was caught off guard for a moment." John frowned, "Sorry, did you say again?"

"Those women and some young girls keep stealing from my shop. I'm convinced they all work together but it's a different girl or woman each time!" The man fussed, "They always mess with the CCTV somehow too."

"Right, uh - and you've told the police this?"

"Of course I have - but there's nothing they can do. All these people around but no one pays attention and without CCTV or any evidence left behind," Exasperated he let his arms fall by his sides, "There's just nothing they can do."

Rather hooked by the idea, John wondered if Sherlock would be equally as interested as he was in the case, "I think I can help or, well, at least know someone who can." He said to the jeweller, "Least I can do."

True, Sherlock mainly solved murders but thieves that were never the same as the last, all targeting one poor jeweller with no trace of any identifiable evidence? That had to interest Sherlock surely. That and John had gotten quite a good look at the young woman who had run into him. With a hopeless nod, seeing as he thought that this would just end up being one of those impossible-to-solve cases, the jeweller took down an address from John and organised to meet with him at 221B a little later that day.

* * * * *

While the operation to eliminate Moriarty's network was temporarily paused, Sherlock sat in front of his desk, trying to work out how to prove Seamus Kelly innocent of murder.

His brother killed Mr Kelly's wife.

But who killed his brother?

Frowning as he stared at the desk, he mentally mapped things out, but everything pointed in one direction - Mr Kelly's brother's wife. But what motive would she have? He didn't like to admit it but, in all fairness, his brother had given him a rather good case to chew on. He needed to see the crime scenes. And the bodies. Time for a trip to the morgue. As he broke his trance and stood up, John entered the flat again. And then he remembered his arm - which he really didn't want to do anything about just yet. John was happy, he could tell.

"And where do you think you're off to?" John enquired first.

Damn, no time to distract him, "To the morgue." He flashed a hopeful smile as though a child were begging a parent for money to get sweets.

"Not just yet, you're not. Ointment first - "

"Yes, _mother_." Sherlock rolled his eyes as he paced over and collapsed into his armchair instead of heading for the door.

Frowning at his friend's childish behaviour, he dismissed the comment as he handed the ointment to Sherlock, "I have good news too."

"I know."

"Of course you know." John sighed, "I got a case. One I think you'll like actually."

"Oh?" His curiosity had been sparked.

"I'll tell you after you've put the ointment on." John stated bluntly though.

Sherlock glanced to the small bottle being idly held in his hands and sighed. At the end of the day it came down to hospital or cases and everyone and their aunt knew which one Sherlock Holmes would prefer. Without a remark, he carefully removed his blazer and slowly rolled the arm of his shirt up again. Five minutes and he was done.

"There, happy?" Sherlock grumbled more so from the stinging sensation.

"Much."

"So what's this case then?" Sherlock then asked.

"I would tell you but best you hear it from the client. I just needed you to put the ointment on. Client will be here in a couple of hours."

Sherlock frowned. He had been played by his own friend and in such a cruel way too - he just wanted to know about the case, "So then, I won't be going to the morgue anymore." He slumped into the armchair more with a huff.

"I said a couple of hours - that's surely enough time to go to the morgue and back."

"John, it's London, I still have to get there and back too."

Widening his eyes dramatically and throwing his hands up in defence, John apologised with an amused smile. Ever the child, he thought of his friend, ever the child.

"It better be a good case."


	12. Clients

Safe to say, Sherlock was intrigued by the jeweller's case. He was pleasantly surprised to find that John had found him a decent case (not that he doubted John's abilities to do so, of course, but he did find _every_ case interesting even if they hadn't the slightest appeal to Sherlock). Before leaving, Sherlock informed Elizabeth that Mrs Hudson would be around to watch out for her (should she decide to leave) but was promptly reminded that she had no real desire to leave anymore unless she had a death wish. Assured by her response, he trusted her to be fine on her own and left with John and the jeweller to go and analyse the scene of the crime.

At the jewellers, the detective was in his element, deducting clues from the scene, "You said that they messed with the CCTV?"

"Yes, I don't even know how they get in." The owner despaired.

"Do you have any other staff that work here?"

"Only Abigail and Tom, sales assistants, but Abigail only works at the weekends and Tom on Mondays and Wednesdays."

"And you said that it was only ever women and girls that robbed your store?"

"Yes." The jeweller frowned.

John piped up at this point, "All staff come in through the back, don't they? And isn't there a passcode to unlock the backdoor?"

"Yes, but if you're suggesting that Abigail is the one who messes with the CCTV then I have to say that your awfully wrong." The man adjusted his glasses with a more amused frown, "She's - "

"She's what?" Sherlock enquired.

"Abigail can sell but otherwise she is as thick as a plank. I highly doubt she would be able to hack CCTV."

"How do you know she isn't faking?" John posed this question to him.

"Fake being thick? Well, I - I..." The jeweller paused as it dawned on him, "I don't know."

"Just to make sure: when did you say the robberies started?" Sherlock added.

"Early this year."

"And when did you employ Abigail?"

"Before the start of this year."

"And there you have your answer but now we need the evidence. We'll need to catch her in the act. Mr Agate, John and I will see you tomorrow. Rest assured we'll catch the thieves." Sherlock nodded to the jeweller before turning to leave with John. Once outside the detective muttered, "Sounds like there is a female gang in operation."

"Told you that you would like the case." John replied smugly.

*  *  *  *  *

While John and Sherlock were away, Elizabeth was just milling about the flat at home. Mrs Hudson checked on her once, offering her tea when she did to which the thief happily obliged. Nothing interesting happened really. Therefore she had to make her own distractions. Shaun might have been a close friend, and yes she missed and mourned him, but she knew that if he were still here that he would probably tell her not to cry over him of all people, even though she loved him dearly.

In fact, while the men were gone, Elizabeth took the time to really look at the flat - not just to see it but to observe it too. Somehow, the fact that there was a smiley face spray painted on the wall never did quite dawn on her and she smiled at this. But the smile was quickly replaced with concern when she saw the bullet holes in the wall. Why on earth were there bullet holes? On top of the fire place was the skull, which she oddly found less alarming than the bullet holes, and a number of items held down to the wood by a knife.

Elizabeth didn't get far with her curious analysis of the flat when the door to the apartment opened - but it didn't reveal Sherlock or John or even Mycroft or Mrs Hudson for that matter. Instead, a young woman. She smiled, her red-painted lips reaching ear-to-ear revealing two neat rows of glistening teeth.

"The woman downstairs said I could wait for Mr Holmes to come back, I hope I'm not intruding." She spoke politely.

"Uh - um - not at all." Elizabeth shrugged.

The woman waited in the doorway, shuffling on her feet slightly as Elizabeth stared back at her wordlessly.

The thief blinked hard as she realised she was the one who had to be hospitable, "Sorry, you can come in."

"I'm so sorry, I would have knocked."

"Hm?"

The woman nodded in acknowledgement of Elizabeth's attire and she looked down at herself, now realising she was sill in pyjamas and understanding that she had not yet brushed her hair despite it being early afternoon. Shit, she thought, now much more self-conscious of herself.

"One moment, let me just go tidy myself up." Elizabeth made a move to leave, "You can wait here."

"Sure." She nodded.

Shutting Sherlock's door, she wondered if it was safe to even leave the woman alone. Nah, it will be fine, she thought, the lady doesn't look like she could do much anyways. All the same, she still got ready rather hurriedly. Having thrown on a pair of jeans and a green jumper and sorting out her hair into a messy bun, she opened the door looking off to the side to grab her mug off of the bedside table and reached to grab it but as she did, a subtle 'click' reached her ears and she stopped dead.

Peering over her arm, she saw the woman and her taunting, tight, red-lipped smile as she pointed a gun at Elizabeth. Shit.

The thief said nothing as she retracted her hand and stood normally again until an unexpected, rather worrying thought reached her mind.

"Where's Mrs Hudson?"

The woman scoffed, her shoulder-length ginger hair bouncing as she did, "Chloroform, she is sleeping peacefully and otherwise unharmed in her flat."

At least she was safe, thank God, "Who are you?"

"And old friend of Jim's."

Brilliant, Elizabeth thought, just what she needed, "What do you want?"

"For you to come with me."

"Why?"

"Because you're the only person Jim remotely cares about."

"Well, he has a funny way of showing it." She blurted out.

A scowl crossed the woman's face, "Enough talk. Raise your hands and start walking."

"You can't walk me out onto the streets, holding a gun to me and not go unnoticed." Elizabeth tried to be rational with her but still did what she was told and walked past her slowly. Yet she promptly felt the cool metal muzzle roughly nudge her in the small of her back.

"It's a risk I'm willing to take."

Elizabeth was marched down the stairs, to which her eyes briefly met with Mrs Hudson's apartment door. She hoped that she would be okay. Of all the people in the world, Mrs Hudson didn't deserve this. In fact, she often wondered why the landlady put up with Sherlock considering the danger he could bring with him, given his career choice.

Before the woman opened the front door, she leaned in close to Elizabeth's ear, pressing the gun against her back harder, then said in a law, threatening tone, "You're going to open the door, and walk out normally. There's a car outside. You're going to get into that car by choice, do you understand?"

"Yes."

"I'm sure you can work out what will happen if you don't. Now, open the door."

Yeah, she didn't particularly fancy getting shot today, it was just a bit much on her agenda really, considering she still had Jim to find or vice versa. Although, if Jim got to her first, death would be on his agenda too as he made that so crystal clear last night. Neither outcome, she decided, she wanted really but if she had to choose a way to go, then at least a bullet would be quicker than Jim. 

Way quicker than Jim.

That all being said, Elizabeth just prayed she would have some other chance to get away.

Quite robotically, she did as instructed and walked out into the daylight of the street and over to the car. It was a black SUV. Why was it always an SUV? She saw two other men in the car, one in the front and one in the back, both looking impressively intimidating and she immediately regretted opening the door.

"I would apologise for this but soon you won't care."

"Well tha - "

Elizabeth never got to finish her sarcastic response as a sharp hit to the back of head with the back of the woman's gun promptly knocked her out.

"I can handle the rest on my own, but I want you two to bring the detective as well - only the detective. Stay behind. I'll send someone to get you."


End file.
